


Do It Once More

by orphan_account



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blood, Cheating, Dorks, F/F, F/M, Historical References, Hurt/Comfort, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Minor Violence, My First Fanfic, Slow Burn, other ships
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-13
Updated: 2017-04-13
Packaged: 2018-10-18 08:45:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10613373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The tags give more information than this. It's a 2p Canada/America story in a beast AU what else can I say?





	1. I

**Author's Note:**

> Editing and writing in English is not my best strength so if there are any errors a quick message would be helpful!

Alfred lowered his gaze at the bar tender who had given him suggestive glances and a few winks here and there. His drink remained in the glass; untouched by the American who was in a bad enough mood to drink, but hasn't.

"Need more chips?" The red-head smirked, pulling another serving of potato chips from the bar counter. "For someone with your appearance I'm surprised you're here alone."

Alfred gave a timid smile breaking away from his thoughts. He can do this, it's not too difficult.

"Perhaps you'll accompany for the night?" He said in uncomfortable murmured words.

Giving a soft chuckle the other nodded, pushing the glass of liquor closer to Alfred. "My shift ends in an hour. Why not take a swing and wait for me." And with a wink he was gone to serve another client.

Letting out a breath Alfred wiped some sweat collecting on the bridge of his nose. His heart raced and his own hands were sweaty as he reached for his drink taking a small sip. The beverage ran through his system numbing out the feeling of overwhelmment from the past few hours. Perhaps he could kill these emotions with more drinks. It was a bad option, but it seemed as the only one.

Soon enough he was hammered with an arm around the red-head bartender as he brought him outside. His vision was stunned as he tried to focus on how long he was inside. The sun had set awhile ago and now the cold air was blowing against his skin, however he felt warmth inside. The muffled voice that blabbered away must be the bartender talking to him. He was dazed until he felt his head hit against a hard surface. 

"Ow!" He yelped out in an aggregated tone to the bartender. If the guy apologized Alfred wouldn't know because now he was paying attention to the pain splintering from the back of his head. 

He was sitting against a concrete wall he guessed from the texture of it under his hand. It was a roller coaster, the alcohol in his system and the heat of another pressed against his cold skin. 

Heavy breathing tickled his ear with more slurred words and touches against him. Subdued to skilled hands and lips on his neck his breath turns to quick pants and groans of pleasure. A cool breeze hit his chest when the other stripped him of his upper clothing. A hot tongue went over his freezing body giving Alfred more to moan about and beg as the man went lower. 

In his head the pain still hasn't died down, but the male's attention to him helped forget about it. Though a string of guilt pooled in his gut the further they went. 

Just as quick as they started he stopped. 

Loud shouts he heard and heavy footsteps followed. It was all going too quickly for his head to take. The pain was now aching through his icing skin from the cold and a throbbing one coming from his head. Perhaps this was a bad idea after all.

"Hey let go!" The blonde snarled as hands grabbed and pulled him to his feet.

Alfred himself is more than fairly built. Arthur has commented multiple times of how the young man doesn't know his own strength.

But this time no matter how much he struggled and fought back the others had him locked down to their will. They seemed angered about something hearing how most of them talked with a loud bitter voice. It only lasted for a few more minutes before Alfred's body finally couldn't handle anything more and he collapsed in drunken slumber. 

It was uncomfortable to say the least. Alfred found himself bound to the wall. Ropes cutting his wrists when he tried to move too much. He wanted to panic, but all he could feel was the horrible pain of a hangover from last night. It was dark from all angles. He couldn't see anything not even the floor he lied on. It gave him time however. Time to recollect what happened. It was all fairly fast paced from his dispute that put him in that bar to being manhandled to--where ever the Hell he was. 

If he does escape though, and pray that he does, he'll go looking for the Brit that angered him so much to go drinking. For now however there wasn't much he could do. His raging pain in his head told him going back to sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea. 

Footsteps. 

His ears perked up quickly to the faint sound of wood boards creaking under pressure and loud enough thumps of others to know his kidnappers were closing in. By the sound it seemed like more than two people were showing up. 

"Many walk without a purpose of what to do in these modern times," someone said in a slight sassy tone. "Bare with me when I say he's better off dead."

Adrenalin coursed through him like fire. These people wanted him dead for what? What did he do? Well it doesn't matter now if he couldn't escape these thugs and make it out alive. He liked living thank you.

The people circled him from what it sounded like. Vulture eyes staring at his backside into his head. It was a sinking feeling taking over his body to have these people look at him like dead meat. 

"Well," started another, "Perhaps we should have his word in this." This lighter voice had a familiar accent to Alfred. He held his breath thinking the others wanted his word on his death road.

"It's bullshit."

Color washed away from the American. He was breathing out a bit trying to keep clam. Everyone was arguing now. There were maybe eight people with him. But one voice was shaking him. It was heavy and obviously tired, but nonetheless it was a darker, louder than the others. 

"He's a child, okay?" The person now stood in front of him. In seconds light reached his eyes to allow him to see, though only for a second was he granted this freedom. A rough hand cupped his face forcing him to look up to his capturers. They stood in front of him. Some with worried or bored looks, but the one who held him up...he had a hard, serious expression. It was impossible for Alfred to get what he was thinking; other than he seemed tired, but that was just from his tone of voice. 

"He's no threat," The male said softly. Like he didn't want to frighten Alfred. Though that kind gesture canceled out as he let go of him in a disgusted way.

"Even so what are we going to do with him then?" The first voice spoke again. By the dim lightening Alfred could make out blond hair and a white winter coat. "Your brother caused this Matthieu."

"Tsk," he spat out shooting glares at the other. Being called that seemed to have struck a nerve.

"He was your responsibility, thus you shall be held accountable for his actions." 

Remaining silent Alfred watched this go back and forth. A few wanted him dead, others looked to have empathy, but kept their mouth shut. Though Matthieu seemed to backlash everything tossed at him. Alfred didn't know how to feel about this. He didn't seem to want him dead, but at the same time he didn't know what else to do other than just object. 

"Enough!" Out in the sidelines another entered the ring. "You children need to remember this isn't something new to us," He stopped to look over at the taller male. Tying his black hair up into a low ponytail he continued, "Since your brother is no longer among us his responsibility is delt to you."

Silence. Alfred could sense much tension from Matt. He stood up broadly with his hands cuffed into fists. He looked no less then a snake ready to bite poison into their victim.

"Then it's settled. We'll discuss the rest in the morning. Everyone should head home before any suspicion is raised."

Alfred saw them all file out one by one. A few giving whispers and glances to Alfred. He had no idea what was just sentenced to his head, but Matthieu stood in place. He didn't move an inch until everyone had left. Then he let out a breath.

"You don't deserve this," he mumbled looking down at Alfred. Walking a bit further away Matt sat down (guessing by the sound of a chair squeaking against the floor.) He was outside of Alfred's range to be seen, but was still there no less.

He felt like rope was tied around his neck and was only getting tighter with each passing second of the other keeping silence. Alfred would like to think that this was just hishead making everything worse than it really was. He would like to, but knew better.

Finally he returned after a minute or two. Though his attire changed. Alfred's vision wasn't the best in this barley lit building, but he remembered Matt's white dress shirt being undone though most of his chest was wrapped up. Now it was fully buttoned up with the collar popped a bit, a necktie and an overcoat. Well if this was the 1870s he sure fit the picture. 

"Hold still," he grumbled setting Alfred free of his restraints. 

Working up his voice he asked, "Why am I here?" 

And of course the other didn't answer. Instead he only guided Alfred to his feet and through what he sees now as an old theater. It wore the smell of rotting wood and abandonment.

Outside clouds blocked the moon's light from shining down leaving the streets in almost complete darkness if it weren't for the street lamps. Alfred couldn't read any street signs nor spot anything familiar. His mind didn't seem to see anything that could have told him where he was. Nothing familiar to where the bar was at.

Preoccupied with his surroundings Matt guided him quickly through the town down a trail leading to a few small houses. Each spread about a good distance from one another. Good for privacy, annoying if you wanted to visit one another. Without a watch Alfred couldn't tell how long they were walking and he didn't feel his phone on him. It was late no doubt that much he knew. 

Walking down into the night with Matt by his side.


	2. II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, 1ps are in this story as well.

Alfred pouted in his miserably bored state. The only sound was the tap tap tap of Arthur's keyboard. He watched his partner stare at the screen typing away some report that was due.

"Are you done?" He asked, sitting up to help his stiffening back. He's been sitting in this office for too long.

"For the last time no." His eyes leaving the screen to give the American a light glare. "I can't finish this up until Francis returns."

"Ugh," that gave him another glare. "Why is Francis' side of the report always so important? He's holding you back for being so slow."

Arthur sighed in annoyance, "We've been over this, Alfred. Why don't you go wait outside I'll be down so we can go to lunch."

Knowing further protests would be in vain Alfred listened to his boyfriend and headed out the building. He never quite understood Arthur's work. Only that he and Francis keep too many secrets from him for his own comfort. He must have tried over zillion time to get either of the two to give him at least a hint into their work.

"Hello!" Francis called out jogging over to Alfred. "My, my, why are you outside?" He laughed, "Did Arthur kick you out his office again?"

"Uh, no." Lies, "I'm just waiting for him. We're going out for lunch."

"Sounds delicious, er, might I make a suggestion?"

"No," crossing his arms Alfred really tried hard not to be rude, but this was becoming a daily routine and it was starting to bug him. "Arthur already chose a place."

"Ah, well I better go submit my portion." Blowing a kiss he ran up the steps into the building.

It wasn't that he disliked the Frenchman it was that Arthur didn't dislike the Frenchman. With his companion knowing Francis longer than they've dated it gave Alfred a sense of uneasiness. Arthur has said many times that Francis and he were strictly professional and that, "How could he even admire a frog?"

Still, Alfred knew there was at least a friendship bond there that he could never break.

"Alfred," the Brit's accent rang into his ears.

Putting on a smile he waved him over, "Ready to go?"

"Yes, though Francis isn't. I hope you don't mind I invited him along."

Keeping his billion dollar smile he shrugged, "Why would I?"

"Good, we have some business to talk about."

Of course. Looking up he could see the blond male walking towards them with a grin.

Yeah, he wouldn't mind at all.

Grunting Alfred shifted his body waking up from his sleep. A headache made it's self-known as he regained consciousness. Opening his eyes to squint he saw two red ones looking back down at him.

"Oh what the fu--?!" He sat up quickly against protests his headache made.

"Hey, you're awake!" The man cheered loudly. "West, he woke up!"

Groaning Alfred covered his ears to block as much noise as possible.

"Brother," West grumbled walking into the bedroom. "I can see he's awake. Have you given him his drink?"

"Oh right!" Reaching over the red-eyed male grabbed a mug off of the nightstand holding it out for Alfred to take.

"Quicker you take it the faster that pain of yours will disappear." He nodded, waiting for Alfred to take it; which he hesitantly did.

"I love it. Really aids yourself after a night of drinking."

Taking a few quick glances at the substance in the cup and the two new faces Alfred took a few small sips. Untimely making the man sitting on the bed beside him roll his eyes.

"Chug it down! You want to get rid of that headache of yours don't you?"

"Brother, please, let him take it at his pace."

As the two talked back and forth Alfred kept taking short ships. He had no idea what the beverage was. It had a weak taste of citrus in it, however, the pain in his head began to numb out. Guess the loud guy was right.

"What is this?" He asked, hoping his question would be heard between their squabbling.

"The antidote," the loud one smirked.

"It's tea," West corrected him taking the mug from Alfred.

"And who are you?"

"Ludwig," he answered then looked at the other. "This is my brother, Gilbert."

"We're here to babysit you until the others are done," Gilbert informed, getting off the bed. "You hungry?"

With this information processing, Alfred tried to get any vibe from these guys. They don't look nor sound like anyone from the night before.

"Yeah," he laughed softly. "What's to eat?"

"Ludwig, didn't you make some broth?"

"Broth? For breakfast?" He interrupted, "How about some bacon?"

"No can do, uh...didn't get your name."

"Alfred."

"No can do, Alfred!" Gilbert didn't seem to have an indoor voice. "Your body is a bit weak right now. Anything too fancy and you'll be puking it back out."

"What?"

"Brother, go get him a bowl. I'll check to see if the others are back yet."

"Whoa, wait a minute!" But his words were unheard as the two left him. This was all going by quickly. With no clue of where he was or anyway of communication to his friends; Alfred felt the pit of loneliness settle in.

Getting up from the bed he walked over to the window taking a look at the landscape. A barn could be seen not too far from where he was and an old pick up left in the driveway. That could be his means of escaping, but he had no idea how to hotwire a car. Staring out to the land he noticed his own reflection at some point and how he was only in his underwear.

Hearing someone behind him clear their throat he turned around quickly.

"May want to sit back down. In your condition, I wouldn't be walking about."

"My condition?" Shaking his head he focused on his position. "Where're my clothes? Where am I? Where's my phone? I--"

"Eat," Ludwig spoke in a firm tone. He was looking at Alfred like he was a child. "They'll be time for questions later."

The American wanted to push further but the stern look the man was giving him was convincing enough to shut up and eat his food.

After breakfast, Ludwig took his bowl and left the room again. When he return he gave Alfred clothes similar to what Matt was wearing. Come to think of it the two brothers attire was almost the same, just a few touches to make it seem like a military uniform.

"Where's my stuff?" Alfred asked again. Ludwig didn't answer, he didn't even acknowledge the question as he left so he could change.

It looked nice, but it wasn't very comfortable as it kept Alfred from slouching. He had ditched the vest because he couldn't figure out which buttons were for decoration and which were to open the damn thing. These people have the oddest dress code. Jeans and tee shirts work just as good.

"Hello, Alfred the awesome me has returned!" He heard looking at the doorway. "I see you got fitted nicely. Think you can walk?"

Alfred squinted his eyes at his question. Course he can walk. "Yeah?"

"Great, then come downstairs." Gilbert snickered watching him closely as he left the room. The two eyed each other as Alfred started to go down the staircase. The eye battle didn't last even a few seconds before Alfred was feeling a bit sick.

"I got you," Gilbert chuckled helping the young male down the rest. He sat him on a small sofa as he tried to gain his composure. It wasn't like he felt sick, but his body was telling him otherwise. And Gilbert seemed to have known this was going to happened. Was it his condition Ludwig told him? What was it? What happened to him?

"Merci," A thick accent spooked him out of his thoughts. "I'll take it from here."

"No, problems. But remember what you promised."

"Yes, Gilbert."

"Matt?" Alfred said in a tad confusion. He didn't hear that accent last night. Ugh, everything was twisting and turning this coaster.

"Hello," he said calmly waving goodbye to the German brothers.

"I see you're still walking." He said that in almost a disappointing tone.

"Yeah...where were you?"

The look he gave Alfred reminded him of Arthur when he tried to remember anything before his morning coffee.

"Nothing special." Was his answer, "How are feeling?"

"I, I feel fine, but it's weird like my body isn't in sync with my brain."

Nodding he sat down in his armchair cross from Alfred.

"Matt," Alfred stared at the older male. He didn't understand why, but he felt like Matt wasn't going to beat around the bush to his questions.

"Why can't I go home?" The other didn't change his expression. He knew full well Alfred was going to ask that.

"Because of your stupid mistake."

Ouch, Alfred narrowed his eyes feeling anger rise. What did he do? He's the victim held against his will here.

"Last night you met Allen, my brother." The last few words came out like it hurt. "Many others before you have done the same thing; we just didn't expect you to actually live."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Meeting my brother is like a death sentence."

Staying quiet Alfred recalled the redhead at the bar. Karma was a bitch.

"You were the first of his escorts to make the web."

Alfred shook his head, "I still don't understand."

"He gave you a drink."

"Yes,"

"Tasted a bit too much like iron, no?"

Yes, but it still didn't make any sense. Alfred was missing some puzzle piece Matt is holding back.

"You danced with the devil in the pale moonlight."

"I--what?" Alfred was now the definition of confused.

"Alfred, you're slow aren't you?" Matt sighed, sitting back in his chair. His eyes closed as he let out a breath, "You were a dead man the second you drank his offer."

Alfred stayed on the couch thinking over the events. Did Allen poison him? Was he dying? It only seemed he got more questions than answers whenever he got more text on his incident.

Matt seemed to have fallen asleep a while ago. Sighing out he moved to lie down placing his head on the armrest. All he could do right now was think or watch Matt's chest rise and fall with his breathing.

What was Arthur doing right now? Probably at his desk doing more over time. After their little dispute, he probably wouldn't go looking for Alfred until the week ended. Or so he hoped. Arthur was never the one to come crawling back, it was always Alfred going back to apologize, to admit his wrongdoings, in general his fault for everytime they'd bicker.

"Beating a dead horse doesn't help," he hissed under his breath.

"No it doesn't," Matt responded. Alfred nearly jumped out his skin.

"I thought you were asleep!" He rushed out, putting a hand over his heart.

"Not tired,"

Alfred rolled his eyes. Matt looked exhausted! Not tired my ass.

"Alfred, you and I aren't the same." He continued. His eyes kept shut only moving his mouth to talk. "I don't look like it, but I am just over two centuries old."

Okay, that's enough. "Really now?" Alfred spat, sitting up. This whole town had to be crazy on drugs or something.

"I know you don't, believe me, that's a given, but I do think you deserve the truth. And the truth is you're something that shouldn't exist."

"Grandpa, your war stories are getting old," Alfred mocked. "I'm right here. What do you mean I shouldn't exist?"

"Alfred, listen carefully to when I say this: you are supposed to be dead." Opening his eyes Matt glared deadly at the American.

Alfred stared back at the eyes that were hazel since they've met now glowing a light lavender color.

"You should have died within the hour you accepted to drink my brother's blood." He growled walking over to Alfred. It caused the blond to gulp down watching as the world around him got darker.

"Humans, you're so sensitive, so fragile. It was believed the capability was lost to evolution. Yet, here you are. Funambulism your way to living..." His voice grew soft, backing away from him. His eyes began to go back to their hazel color as he calmed down. Alfred could see a sadness in his eyes even if he kept a straight face.

"Did you eat enough?" Matt's gruff voice asked in a soft tone.

"Somewhat," Alfred answered.

"I'll make you something a little more than broth."

"Okay."


End file.
